


The Hunter Boys

by lotrspnfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Drummer Sam Winchester, Gen, Inspired by Art, Music, Musicians, Pre-Relationship, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Singer Castiel (Supernatural), Singer Dean Winchester, potential destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27741052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrspnfangirl/pseuds/lotrspnfangirl
Summary: Dean Winchester has always had two constants in his life: his brother Sam and music. Sam at his side was a give-in, of course, but he never imagined being able to sustain a lifestyle off of playing music. When Gabriel finds them, their life changes for the better.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22
Collections: 2020 Supernatural Reversebang Challenge





	The Hunter Boys

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun with this little verse! The idea of musician Dean, Sam, and Castiel was _way_ too good to pass up. Huge shoutout to [dizzojay](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Dizzojay/pseuds/Dizzojay) for her prompt that started this fic! I'm really loving the verse here, so I may continue with this story. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Leave her the love she deserves at her art post [here!](https://dizzojay.livejournal.com/793086.html)

For as long as he could remember, it had been him and Sam. The Winchester brothers against the world. And Dean had been okay with that, okay with hopping from dingy hotel room to sleeping in the back of the Impala, sharing the well-worn sleeping bag as their father drove them to their next assignment.

John Winchester had, for all his faults, at least tried his best. He enrolled them in school whenever he could, tried to cluster his jobs together so they could stay in one place for longer than a week. He loved his boys, no one could deny it. And the way John showed it best? Was through music.

Dean and Sam both had lived for the nights John would make it home at a reasonable time, Dean having cooked up a box of Kraft with some hotdogs for them to eat together around the motel table or, if they were lucky, John would bring in a pepperoni pizza and a six pack of cokes. But it wasn’t the fact they got to eat a meal together. No, it was all about how John would kick off his boots and nod to Dean, smiling as his oldest son pulled the guitar out.

John taught them chords and songs with a patience he didn’t have for much else. It was in those moments, listening to each strum, each note, feeling them reverberate in his chest and the way his father’s voice softened as he sang, that Dean would always hold close to his heart. John didn’t say it easy, couldn’t, not after he lost his wife. But when he played music? The boys knew.

On the nights John wasn’t able to be home, or the times he was too tired to play, Dean would pick up the guitar and try to mimic the notes he’d seen his father do. Eventually, mimicking became a rough semblance of playing, and then he started writing his own music.

Sam thrived as Dean learned, and then started writing with Dean. When they reached high school, their dad decided it would be best for them to stay in one place, and they settled in at their Uncle Bobby’s house in Sioux Falls, John coming to visit as often as he could. Despite Bobby’s best efforts to keep him enrolled, Dean dropped out of school and earned his GED, working 9-5 in Bobby’s shop. But, when he punched the clock and Sammy got off the bus from school, they talked shop over making dinner and homework.

Bobby endured their practice sessions, his facial expressions giving them enough to go by if something was working or not, and it was also their uncle that convinced them to start playing at the local bar on the weekends.

When John died… Dean had almost put the guitar down. The painful memories of nights long past were overwhelming, and any type of music made Dean’s stomach clench and his eyes burn. But Sam wouldn’t let it go, and for his brother, Dean picked up music again.

The gigs at the bar turned into them traveling to Stanford, California and playing around the college town when Sam wasn’t swamped with too much work. Between what they got paid from tips, Dean’s job at the garage, and the full ride scholarship Sammy got, including a stipend to live off campus, they were able to live comfortably in a small, one bedroom apartment. There wasn’t much room, but they were used to living with what could fit in the trunk of the Impala anyway.

Tonight was the first long weekend since the semester started and the bar they were playing in was _packed_. Sam was still in his excited phase, doing all of his assignments by the end of Tuesday, but it worked out that their weekends were stress free and Sam hadn’t had a meltdown yet about playing until three in the morning on Saturday night.

“You want another?” Dean asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead and placing his guitar on the side of the stage. Sam jumped down onto the floor and leaned against the stage, keeping their equipment safe as they had a short break between the ‘early’ crowd and the late one.

“Sure,” Sam agreed, nodding as he pulled his phone from his back pocket and started typing away. Dean rolled his eyes but found himself smiling. His brother was probably texting his new ‘study partner’ Jessica.

Dean squeezed through the sea of college students, winking at girls who were showing interest, thanking the few people that called out to tell him they liked them. When he finally reached the bar, he slid up onto an empty stool and tapped the bar top, holding up two fingers.

As Dean waited for two fresh beers, he felt someone slide into the seat beside him. He plastered on a charming smile and was surprised at who was sitting there.

The man was older than the rest of the crowd, his brow raised in amusement as he watched the flirty expression melt from Dean’s face and turn into one of confusion. He was on the shorter side, having to stand on his tiptoes to lean against the stool and to be high enough for his elbow to lean on the countertop. His open jacket looked expensive, made from leather, a worn, classic band tee stretched over his chest.

“Um,” Dean said, glancing over at the bar to see if their beers were there, then looking back at the man who was still staring at him. “Can I help you?”

The man smiled and reached into his jacket pocket, sliding a business card across the bar top.

“I’m Gabriel Westegard,” Dean’s eyes widened at the name, his heartbeat increasing, “owner of Trickster Records out of San Francisco.”

“Holy shit,” Dean whispered and Gabriel chuckled, looking up as Dean’s beers arrived. He held up a finger and grabbed one of Dean’s beers for himself.

“I take it you know who I am?” Gabriel asked as he took a long draw from the glass.

Dean cleared his throat and nodded, grateful that his voice sounded okay as he answered, “Yeah, I… I’ve heard of you.”

Gabriel’s grin widened and he slid a bill over the bar, standing and waving at Dean to follow him. Dean grabbed his beer and Sam’s, following Gabriel through the crowd and back to his brother. Sam was still looking down at his phone, a goofy smile on his face, but his eyes widened in recognition when he looked up to accept the beer Dean was handing him.

“Holy…” Sam whispered, glancing at Dean before looking back at Gabriel. “How long have you been here?”

“Sam!” Dean hissed, wanting to kick his brother for being rude. Sam’s cheeks flushed and he looked away from Gabriel.

“As far as tonight goes?” Gabriel said as he hopped up onto the stage, sitting beside Sam. “I got here before you two started playing. But I’ve watched you two play a few times.”

Dean and Sam’s eyes widened as they looked at each other, both of them turning in tandem back to Gabriel.

“How would you two feel about recording an album?”

Sam took their demo CDs to campus while Dean went to a few of their local hang outs to see if he could leave a stack or two by the registers. It seemed that as quickly as they had the discs packaged, they were gone, Gabriel receiving calls asking about them multiple times a day.

Gabriel convinced them to start a Facebook page, an Instagram, and a Twitter, as well as sign on with a manager to help promote them over their different social medias. Benny was funny, sharp, and was much better at navigating the sea of comments, thirst tweets, and criticisms that they were suddenly bombarded with.

It was strange, going from, “Uh, hi… I’m Dean Winchester and this is my brother, Sammy, and, uh… we’re gonna play for you, I guess.” to being _The Hunter Boys_. But he didn’t hate it. Sam was more apt to scroll through the internet at night, reading out things he found particularly interesting or things he took offense to. Dean wasn’t that interested -- like always, it was about the music, the feeling of the chords vibrating through his soul, the smile he had when he thought of their dad, and family. Family: Sammy, now Benny, and even Gabriel. The man was weird, he was their boss, but he folded in with them as if he’d always been there.

Sam and Gabriel were leaned over the coffee table in the studio, flipping through headshots, when Dean came back from the bathroom. He stopped at the end of the couch, watching them for a moment before they realized he was back.

“Heya, Dean-o,” Gabriel said with a smile, but there was something off about it…

“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Dean returned, dropping down on the other side of Sam and pulling a bottle of water over to himself. They’d been in the studio all morning, working on their first album. Sam had deferred this semester, something Dean and their Uncle Bobby had mixed feelings on, but Gabriel and Benny both swore that this could be ‘it’.

The idea of being actual, _real_ , musicians had never actually crossed Dean’s mind, not even when they were performing every Saturday night. The idea had been a fever dream in the late nights when they were drinking, listening to their own demo tracks, and laughing about ‘what ifs’. It was never something that was actually plausible… and yet, Gabriel was convinced that they would be making it big. He talked about a future of sold out stadiums, a long-term record deal, photoshoots and magazine covers as if they were _so_ easily attainable. Sam soaked it up while Dean stared at them and tried not to roll his eyes.

There was no way two kids from Lawrence, Kansas, who spent their childhood in the back of an Impala and cheap motel rooms while their father took sales gigs throughout the country, were going to be anything _close_ to famous. Sam finishing school and getting a career, a real, honest-to-God, six-figures that would land him a house in the burbs, a wife and two kids, with a picket fence and a goddamn dog was the best they were going to get.

But when he tried to tell Sam that maybe they shouldn’t be putting all their eggs in one basket… Sam had turned his fucking puppy eyes on him and said, “You really don’t think we’re good enough, Dean? You don’t think we deserve this? That we can do this? You’ve always said I could be anything I wanted to be, you’ve always encouraged me, Dean. Are you saying I can’t do this? That I should give up?”

“No, Sammy, I’m not saying that at all.”

Every other argument died on his tongue.

Their chances were slim to none. There were hundreds of kids their age in California alone trying to make it big, hoping for that one track to get them set for life. Would it happen? Not even to half of them. But Sammy was _determined_ and who the hell was Dean to take that away from him?

“Dean, come on…” Sam said as he elbowed him in the side. “Gabriel has a good point.”

“And what’s that?” Dean asked, leaning forward to look over his brother to see Gabriel holding the notebook he and Sam were looking at.

“Well, I was just telling your brother here that three’s company. The best things in life comes in threes - dreams, friends, and memories! One chord is fine. Two chords are pushing it. Three chords and you're into jazz!”

“Stop reading your motivational posters, Gabriel,” Dean sighed, the other man laughing.

“Dean, Gabriel was thinking that maybe we should consider adding… another member to our group,” Sam’s voice became a whisper by the end of his sentence, his eyes trained on his lap instead of Dean’s face where they’d originally started. Dean simply turned his attention from Gabe to stare at the side of Sam’s head.

“Excuse me?” he asked, waiting for Sam to turn to him. “And you… agree with this?”

Sam shrugged, turning back to look at Gabriel who gave a huff and dropped the notebook in Sam’s lap.

“Look, Dean-o, the duo thing is fantastic, it’s _great_ , but think about how much better it could be! You sing, you play guitar. Sam rocks on the drums and plays back up base… It works, as it is. But think about it! What about a backup singer? Someone to give a bit of tenor to your baritone, you know? Maybe someone who could play the keyboard? I mean, the brother thing is great, and it’s been working so far, but look at the Hanson brothers! Who even knows who they are anymore?”

Dean rolled his eyes then and sighed. “They were a group of three, you know.”

“I- that’s not the point,” Gabriel argued, sliding to the front of the couch to flip open the book in Sam’s lap.

“Other washed up trios… Destiny’s Child-”

“Green Day!” Gabriel fired back.

“Blink-182.”

“Nirvana.”

“Okay, that’s one doesn’t count,” Dean argued. “For all we know, they could’ve ended up failing if Cobain hadn’t-”

“How dare you,” Gabriel gasped, placing a hand over his chest and looking shocked. “You can not tell me you honestly believe that Nirvana would’ve ended up washed up.”

Dean shrugged but conceded. “No, okay, you got me on that. But what about-”

“Will the two of you shut up,” Sam raised his voice, causing both Dean and Gabriel to stop their argument and look at Sam. He had the notebook open but was looking at his brother. “I want to see some of them. If it doesn’t work? If no one fits in with us or we don’t vibe or whatever? Then Gabriel can shove it and we’ll just do our thing.”

“Hey!” Gabriel started but Dean had his eyes trained on Sam.

“You really want to try this?” he asked finally, ignoring Gabriel’s smirk behind Sam’s shoulder. Sam nodded, eagerly, and held out the book for Dean to take. “Fine. But they have to be able to read music and play an instrument of their own. And I want-”

Every demand Dean made, despite trying to make them even more ridiculous, Gabriel and Sam both nodded eagerly, and then Gabriel was gone, a stack of headshots with contact information in his hand and the boys left with demo tracks to listen to.

__

Ash was awesome, but he couldn’t carry a tune. At least not one that wasn’t sung without screaming. He _did_ give them a joint on his way out, however, and Dean was grateful for the slight reprieve of listening to people near-groveling to be added to The Hunter Boys duo.

Chuck was quirky, but back up singer wasn’t in his vocabulary.

Lisa was boob. Like, _all_ boob, and as much as Dean wouldn’t mind looking at that every day? He couldn’t stand much more of her.

Charlie almost made the cut - she was funny as fuck, she had a great voice, she played four instruments and hit it off with Sam. She just wasn’t interested in them. Her goal was a solo career, and as much as she wished the boys luck, this wasn’t her type of thing. He couldn’t blame her for that.

There was Zachariah, Anna, Garth, and Gordon. The last of which had an issue with Sam from the moment he walked in the door. By the end of the day, Dean was done. Sensing he was about three seconds from snapping, Gabriel pulled out the final headshot and placed it on the table in front of them.

“Last one, I promise.”

Dean rolled his eyes but nodded, waving his hand to say ‘lets get this over with’.

The man that walked in was attractive, though he was wearing a suit, for Christ’s sake. His hair was a windswept mess and his cheeks were flushed - from embarrassment or the chill of the air outside, Dean wasn’t sure. He glanced over at Sam and saw his brother had already mentally crossed the guy off his list.

“Sorry,” the man apologized as soon as stood before them, his voice _much_ deeper than Dean had anticipated. “I just left work and I missed the stupid bus, so I had to run a few blocks to get here.” As he spoke, he slid his jacket off and loosened his tie, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and - well, yeah. That was pretty hot.

Dean cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “Well, you’re the last one today so… whenever you’re ready.”

The man nodded quickly, walking to the side of the room where Gabriel had a few different instruments set up. He stood for a moment, surveying them before he wheeled the keyboard over. Gabriel stood and got him a stool, the man smiling in thanks before he set it up and sat down.

It was like a wave washed over him, every inch of stress was suddenly removed from his face, his features smooth and his eyes closed as he centered himself. Dean watched him, recognizing it for what it was. He did the same thing when he needed to destress, preparing himself to let go of everything and anything that wasn’t the music he had pulsing in his heart.

When he opened his eyes, it was like he was a completely different person. The man had a small smile on his face and was focused as he cracked his knuckles and set his fingers over the keys. He looked up at the table Sam, Dean, and Gabriel were at, nodding once before he started to play.

All day, they’d seen a variety of musicians and their range of musical talent. A few had played the keyboard, though most of them had stuck to the guitar. But it was nothing like this, not so smooth and practiced. Gabriel had assured them the day before that everyone who was coming knew who Sam and Dean were, had at least listened to their music, and were interested in seeing where things went.

This man was either very alike to them or had done his research. As soon as he started playing, Dean recognized _Stairway to Heaven_. A chill went down his spine as the music washed over him. It sounded different, but no less eerie and beautiful coming from the keyboard and the man spent the first verse simply playing, his eyes closed and his fingers caressing the keys.

Dean had closed his eyes at some point, his head bobbing along to the music, his _soul_ singing along with every keystroke. And then, the man’s voice started, low and smooth:

_“Ooooooh, makes me wonder… Ooh, it really makes me wonder.”_

Dean’s eyes snapped open, another chill going through him. His arms were goose pimpled and he felt himself smile, the man’s entire upper body moving with him as he played.

 _"And it’s whispered that soon, if we all call the tune, then the piper will lead us to reason,”_ the man continued singing, the bravado in his voice rising perfectly over the sound of the piano, the melody they created together making Dean temporarily forget what the original Led Zeppelin version even sounded like. _"And a new day will dawn, for those who stand long, and the forests will echo with laughter.”_

He stopped singing again, just playing, but Dean watched him mouthing all of the words and he realized the man had come up with his own accompaniment for a duet with someone. He wasn’t skipping verses, instead, leaving room for someone else to sing them. He came back in, his voice low and smooth on a few words, and Dean turned his head to find Sam staring at him with wide eyes.

“He’s good,” Sam mouthed and Dean gave a small laugh, nodding his head.

“Like, really good,” Dean mouthed back.

Between them, Gabriel was sitting with his hands over the top of the man’s headshot, his eyes closed and a smile on his face. For once, Dean was glad they all agreed. Despite his original reservations at this entire thing… Dean could suddenly _see_ the three of them playing together on stage.

He was half listening to the music in front of them, the rest of his mind occupied with going over their songs and picking out parts for this man to sing, where they could add in piano music, how they could make their music even better.

As the last notes of the piano rang out, Dean watched the man shakily exhale. Suddenly, the confidence he’d exuded throughout his entire performance was replaced with uncertainty and nervousness. If anything, it only appealed to Dean more. Just like Sam and him, it was suddenly clear that this man before him didn’t _do_ this, not really. Some of the people who had auditioned today had been performing off and on for years, they played gigs of their own or had released singles that just hadn’t gotten picked up past YouTube or Facebook – which is how Gabriel had found them all. There was something about the man before him that let Dean know this case was different.

Silence was heavy, but it only increased the anticipation. Then, Dean pushed his chair back and stood, the man’s bright blue eyes snapping to him, wide and anxious. Dean smiled back at him and started to clap, Sam and Gabriel quickly following suit. It didn’t matter that they _probably_ should’ve talked to him before showing their hands: Dean was going to do whatever it took to get this man to join them.

The man’s cheeks flushed bright red and he gave a nervous laugh, almost tripping over the stool in his effort to stand. “Thanks,” he mumbled and Dean found himself smiling again.

Gabriel pulled over a chair, placing it in front of the table and waved the guy off when he tried to put the keyboard and stool away.

As he sat, Dean leaned forward. He had so many things he wanted to say, but the most important thing was first. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! I’m Castiel. Castiel Novak.”

Sam leaned forward now and Dean’s eyes flicked over to his brother before locking on Castiel’s face, watching it as Sam asked, “So, Castiel… do you want to be a Hunter?”

Throughout the paperwork, Gabriel had warned them all of every single issue he could come up with. They were essentially strangers, Castiel coming into an already formed group, and even more so, into a relationship. Sam and Dean were brothers, had gotten to know each other for twenty-two years, and it might be a hard transition. They might fight, they might disagree, they might need some honest-to-God counseling… But everything Gabriel was worried about was simply not an issue.

While Castiel was very different, he just _fit_. He shared qualities with both of the brothers, and enough differences that it helped to balance them out. He was neat and organized like Sam, passionate and impulsive like Dean. He had his own thoughts and visions that he brought to the table and Sam and Dean soaked everything up. Maybe it was the fact they all had similar backgrounds…

Castiel had grown up in a very religious family, he’d learned piano for the simple fact that he was set to play the organ at his father’s church. He had a large family, but none of them were close. Castiel had grown up feeling isolated and alone, much like the brother’s had as they moved from town to town. He left home at sixteen, with a harsh ultimatum, and he hadn’t looked back. He took solace in his music, playing on the streets for his next meal, until Gabriel had found him.

Gabriel had helped him get a job playing keyboard at local hospitals and nursing homes for the residents, when Castiel had shot him down about a solo career. He hadn’t wanted to be alone anymore. They weren’t the first duo or group Gabriel had tried to get Castiel to join, but they were the first that Castiel agreed to.

Dean didn’t believe in a higher power, but he couldn’t deny _something_ was looking out for them that day.

Castiel brought balance and he fit into their family seamlessly.

“Hey man, you good?” Dean asked, sliding his hand over Castiel’s lower back and leaning in to be heard over the opening act still playing on stage. Castiel jumped at the touch but relaxed back into it when he saw who it was, nodding his head.

“Sam ready?” he asked instead, and Dean just barely stopped from rolling his eyes.

“Yes, Sam’s always ready. But are you ready? You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”

Castiel gave a small laugh and shrugged, closing his eyes for a moment and purposefully shaking himself. It was his way of ‘expelling’ his nerves and Dean waited, patiently, for Castiel to turn.

“I’m good. You would think after three years this would somehow get easier…” Castiel looked embarrassed and Dean knocked shoulders with him.

“If there comes a day when you’re not nervous to get out on that stage? Then I’ll know we’re in trouble. You’re humble, Cas, you’re still _you_. If you suddenly were cocky and confident? I’d be worried this all had gone to your head and I’d have to kick your ass.”

Castiel snorted and nodded, giving Dean a genuine smile. “Thanks,” he replied and Dean nodded, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “We got this,” Castiel whispered and Dean squeezed his shoulder, turning just as Sam walked up to join them.

He grabbed his brother and pulled him in for a hug, pulling back to do the same with his brother, pressing their foreheads together. “We got this,” Sam said the same words and Dean repeated them, stepping back as Sam walked over to Castiel.

As the crowd outside roared, Claire and Kaia wrapping up to introduce _The Hunter Boys_ , Dean reached out and took Castiel’s hand, Castiel squeezing back and reaching for Sam.

_"And now, what you’ve all been waiting for! Smoldering, sexy, and dangerous! Sam, Dean, and Castiel – The Hunter Boys!”_

Castiel squeezed both of their hands before dropping them and darting forward, “Let’s do this!”

Dean laughed, clapping Sam’s shoulder before the brothers ran after him into to the sea of applause.


End file.
